


Dead Reckoning

by Luv_Haze



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Pirates, Romance, swashbuckling fun, zombies and pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luv_Haze/pseuds/Luv_Haze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Rick Grimes is sent by the Crown to deal with an uprising in the islands.  Not only does he find that the dead have risen, but he takes on an ex-pirate as a new crew member for his ship, Daryl Dixon.  As they search for answers and safe harbor, Rick and Daryl find what they're really looking for in each other.  AU with zombies!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Crown had called upon Rick to settle some sort of pesky uprising in the islands, taking him away from his gifted parcel of farm land in the southern parts of the New Land for one last adventure with promises of a small fortune and that Britain would be forever indebted to him. Rick didn’t care about the fortune, but the guarantee of being granted a favor by the Homeland was something he coveted. He didn’t have need for it yet, but something tugged at his soul saying this was his chance for real freedom, for the freedom of his children, Carl and Judith.

His wife was dead, died from childbirth of their beautiful little girl. He didn’t miss her for himself, they’d grown apart, but he missed her for his children, especially for Judith who would never know her mother. He wasn’t sure Judith was even his. Lori had been known to run around behind his back during his last stint as a Captain in the British Fleet. He’d even heard she was running around with his old friend Shane.

Rick eyed the shoreline. The official letter had only said there was an uprising that needed to be controlled, but hadn’t gone into detail about who was trying to take over. Who it was would change his game plan. He had a much different approach for dealing with the ever encroaching Spanish than he did pirates or natives. 

“Captain, we’ve been in port an hour and haven’t seen a single soul, the men are spooked,” Glenn said, the best navigator in the empire. Apparently he was the son of wealthy Korean textile merchant that had been sent over to study in London. How he made his way into the Royal Navy, Rick had no idea, but he was always glad to see him, he was someone he could trust.

Someone usually signaled from the docks, letting them know they were ready for them to row ashore, but there was no one. Not even a stray fisherman wandering about. It was eerie and surreal and Rick knew something was terribly wrong.

“Think it’s a trap?” Glenn asked. 

“Hmmm, could be,” Rick said. “Shall we find out?”

Glenn glanced between Rick’s eyes and the shore. “Who? You don’t mean me and you, do you?”

A grin turned up on Rick’s mouth as he rested his hand on Glenn’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just to check things out. You’re the best at getting in and out of places unseen and I have to put my eyes on this to see what we’re up against so just you and me this time.”

Even though Glenn had had his sea legs for many years, he looked queasy. “But…if it’s a trap…”

“Then we’re the only ones that will be able to see it before it traps us,” Rick said, motioning toward the gaggle of men hanging on the rails of the ship, all watching the deserted port. “You don’t think any of them could do that, do you?”

Glenn’s wary eyes scanned the lot of their crew and sighed. “Fine, but you’re helping me row.”

Rick had sent a decoy boat out first with six men, headed straight to the docks. Their instructions were to turn around and return before arriving, long enough to keep the attention of whoever might be watching while he and Glenn rowed West around the cove to the small beach they’d seen before setting anchor.

They left their rowboat on the sand, pulling it up enough that high tide wouldn’t carry it away and headed into the trees. They were thirsty and sweaty from the Caribbean heat by the time they reached the island side of the port town. They’d seen plenty of wildlife, but no people yet.

After watching the open gate for a few minutes and seeing no one, they slipped through the entrance and ducked behind the nearest building to scope out the street. A sudden crash caused them both to tense as they crouched behind a couple of large barrels. Rick slowly craned his neck around them and saw a man amble into the street. He looked drunk by the way he was walking, staggering and moaning and that’s when Rick saw that the man’s neck was ripped open, the skin on his face sagging in an unrealistic way.

The man was hurt, beyond hurt really. He had the type of injury that no man got up from and walked around, even if he was stumbling. Something deep inside Rick begged him to stay put, not to rush out and offer assistance, so he fought his instinct to help and put his arm up to bar Glenn from moving as well.

He could tell Glenn had seen the man by the way his breathing had changed. The sat huddled together in a hyper awareness that Rick could not recall previously having experienced as another man sauntered out of a nearby door after the injured one. 

“Where ya goin’ there, ya sneaky sonuvabitch, git over here,” the man drawled, his accent heavy and his tone vindictive and full of pride.

Rick’s legs burned from squatting, but he dared not move. The injured one turned awkwardly and bared his teeth as he moved back toward the man, arms reaching out for him.

“Ain’t gonna be ya lunch asswipe,” the man said, suddenly lunging forward and burying a dagger in the man’s skull.

Rick felt Glenn flinch beside him. They’d never seen someone outright kill an injured person like that unless it was during war but this didn’t feel like a war, it felt personal.

Another injured man, this one missing an entire arm, rounded the corner and the guy charged on him too, dropping him with a knife to the head. 

Rick’s mind raced to process what he was seeing. Pirates didn’t act this way, they didn’t brutalize, they had a code. Rebellions didn’t look like this either, this was cruel, this was barbaric. Unsure of what he was dealing with, Rick motioned to Glenn that they’d be moving to apprehend the guy, if that was even possible. At the very least, maybe they could talk to him from a distance before the man sunk his dagger into their skulls too.

Glenn was shaking, he could feel him and Rick sensed he was shaking too. They waited as the man rooted through the pockets of both the dead men and when he was on one knee with his back to them, they rushed out into the street and Rick put his gun to his head before the man could get on his feet.

“Get up, nice and slow,” Rick said as the man put his hands in the air and slowly cocked his head to see them.

“Now hold up there, I ain’t got no trouble with ya,” the man said, pushing to his feet. When he stood, he was bigger up close than Rick had estimated and he instantly knew this man could easily take them both in a heartbeat, but Glenn was smart and was already pulling the man’s arms behind his back and tying them with a leather strap.

“Why’d you kill them?” Rick asked.

The man glanced at the body near his feet. “They was already dead,” he said. 

Glenn huffed and Rick narrowed his eyes. “Look here…”

“Merle,” the man said. “Name’s Merle and you must be the cavalry. Sure hope you got more than just the Chink, cause this place is cursed and two men ain’t gonna be able to save what God’s already abandoned.”

Rick shifted his weight to work off his nerves, something about all this just settled in his bones and told him to run, run all the way back to his little plot of land, to his children and green beans and say fuck the Crown. “You alone? Or are there more of you?” Rick asked.

Merle spit, there was some blood in it and Rick wondered if he’d taken some blows. “Every man dies alone, ‘cept for these two fuckers,” he said, kicking at the body. “Ya got a ship? Best be havin’ this chat out there in the water where the dead can’t git at us.”

Rick didn’t know what the man was rambling on about, but the confidence in his voice stirred his fear even more. “Are there more of you?” Rick bit out.

“There was, just a few of us now, four, maybe five of us left. Ya take us on board and we’ll talk, but we got to git my men first and git off this scrap heap before we all meet the maker,” Merle said.

“Call them out then,” Rick said and Merle shook his head.

“Ain’t gonna do that, noise brings the dead, we gotta go git them,” Merle said.

Rick had had enough of this asshole and his attempts to stall. “I got a better idea,” Rick said, yanking Merle toward the overhang of the closest building. “I’m going to tie you up here and go for them myself.” He started tying him up to the wooden post holding up the balcony.

“No, no, no…” Merle’s eyes revealed his fear. “Can’t leave me here, they’ll get me! I’ll go with ya, promise I’ll be nice.”

“Too late,” Rick said, showing his control and authority in the situation. He needed to teach this guy a lesson one way or another. “We’ll be back.”

“You’re leavin’ me to die.” Merle called after them, though Rick did notice that the man wasn’t yelling, he was keeping his voice down and something about that was chilling.

Rick didn’t know where he was going, but decided that walking down the main street in town would suffice. It didn’t take long for his decision to pay off. Both he and Glenn stopped in their tracks and listened when they heard a ruckus coming from inside a building up ahead. A couple of loud crashes were followed by yelling so they hurried up to the door, flanking either side.

Usually Rick would send Glenn in a back door to scout, but the urgency that had been nagging at him since their feet touched land had him pushing the door open to take a look inside.

It was a trading post storage room. Tipped over barrels of grains and sacks of coffee beans littered the floor. They heard another crash followed by a string of curses then a man yelled out, “fuckin’ help me ya assholes!” 

Rick rushed in, hand on the knife handle sticking up from his belt and squinted as he moved further into the windowless space. They kept rooms like this dark to preserve the goods. 

“Fuck.” The same voice mumbled from up ahead.

“Hey!” Rick called out, Glenn hovering behind him. “You need help?”

“I’m trapped,” the voice called back and Rick moved toward it. “Damn sack of flour weighs a ton.”

Rick rounded a corner and was able to make out the man lying on the floor, but it wasn’t one sack of flour, it was three. “Glenn, help me grab this,” Rick said, both of them making quick work of moving the heavy sacks. The man shimmied out from under the last one and got to his feet, seemingly unhurt. But just as Rick turned to introduce himself, the man lunged at him, knife drawn.

It was a rare moment where Rick saw his life flash before his eyes, but for some reason, he couldn’t react fast enough to make a counter move, so he just relaxed into it, expecting the unknown of death to swallow him. His eyes closed, his breathing stopped and he waited.

But death did not come. Instead, he found a strong hand slide around and cup the back of his head, strong and gentle, and he felt himself being moved to the side. He opened his eyes and found himself tucked into the man’s shoulder, a loud thud sounding behind him.

The hand around his head let go and he felt unbalanced as the man stepped back, leaving his space. “Almost lost ya head, gotta be careful,” he said, wiping his knife on his pants before sheathing it. “I thought ya were somebody else, sorry ‘bout callin’ ya assholes.”

“Rick, are you okay!?” Glenn asked and Rick had no idea what had just happened. He noticed a body on the ground, slumped in an awkward position and realized the man must have killed whoever it was as they were sneaking up on Rick.

“I’m fine,” Rick said, processing everything. “Why did you kill him?”

The man snorted. “Ya kiddin’ me, right?” When Rick didn’t say anything, the man sighed. “He was already dead. Didn’t kill him the first time, just put him down the second.”

“Where’d your friends go?” Rick asked, choosing to ignore that this man was saying the same thing as Merle, mainly because it didn’t make sense.

“Ain’t my friends, just the only ones left. We gotta get outta here, dangerous in the dark,” he said, leading them back toward the sunny door.

It took a second for Rick’s eyes to adjust once they got outside, but when they did and he got a good look at the man, his breath caught—the man was gorgeous. He wasn’t a pretty boy, but rugged and handsome and while Rick had been married before, he had always been able to admire an attractive man, though he’d never acted on it, it just wasn’t something that seemed like the logical next step, but now…

“We found a guy, said his name was Merle,” Glenn said. 

“That’s my brother,” he said, spitting on the ground. Rick could see the resemblance. “Where’s he at?”

Glenn pointed and they headed back toward Merle after the man showed no interest in going after the guys he had been with. 

“I’m Glenn, this is Captain Rick Grimes,” Glenn said, smiling and extending his usual politeness.

“Daryl,” he said. “Dixon.”

“Your brother said they were his men, yet you don’t seem fond of them,” Rick said, picking up a much different vibe from this brother. 

“Ain’t my men, ain’t my friends, ain’t Merle’s neither, more like a pack of wild dogs that travel together, fuck ‘em.” Daryl walked right past where they’d left Merle before Rick noticed his brother was gone. “They left me.”

“He was right here,” Glenn said, hurrying over to the abandoned strap they’d used to tie him up. “How’d he get free?”

“What?” Daryl spun around, anger etched all over his face. “Ya tied him up?”

Rick held his hands up in defense. “He killed two men, we secured him and then we went to find you and the others.”

Daryl shook his head. “What, these two?” He kicked at the dead bodies nearby. 

Rick nodded, his nose crinkling when a stench wafted up from them.

“Ya don’t know, do ya?” 

“Know what?” Glenn asked.

“That they’re already dead,” Daryl said. “All of ‘em. The whole damn town is crawlin’ with ‘em. They die and come back to life, ‘cept they ain’t really alive the second time, just hungry. And all they wanna eat, is us.”

“That’s not possible,” Rick said, mentally buckling down to argue the insanity of what he was saying. Why did the most attractive man he’d ever met have to be crazy?

“Oh yeah,” Daryl said, pointing behind them. “Then what the fuck explanation ya got for that?”

Rick swallowed hard, hearing the moans, and turned around slowly. In the distance he saw a rather large group of people walking—no, limping and shuffling and dragging—toward them, teeth gnashing, body parts missing, blood and guts hanging from various parts of them. 

The one that really stuck out to Rick was the naked lady in the middle. Her shoulder had giant bite marks in it and chunks of it were missing. Blood stains trailed along her arm and down over her breast. But it was that she’d been gutted that held his gaze. Her intestines hung out of the gaping hole in her abdomen and yet she still shuffled along toward them, her eyes glazed over and milky.

“Ya said he was a captain?” Rick heard Daryl say, but he was transfixed on watching the people get closer.

“Yes, Captain Rick Gr—“ Glenn replied.

“Ya gotta ship we can get on? Otherwise we’re gonna die on this fuckin’ island,” Daryl said, sounding impatient.

Rick finally snapped out of it and turned back to them, nodding. “Yes, let’s go. We have a row boat on the next beach.”

“What about Merle?” Glenn asked.

Daryl kicked the post they had tied him too, knife in his hand. “He’s a tough sonuvabitch, we’ll come back for him.”

But something in Rick’s mind said they wouldn’t be coming back. Ever.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl couldn’t believe he’d ended up on one of the Crown’s ships. It was his worst nightmare, that is, until the dead started trying to eat him, so really that was his worst nightmare now, but still, a pirate on a sanctioned ship? It was unheard of. Luckily, this Rick Grimes guy didn’t seem to know he was a pirate, otherwise he’d be in the brig in a heartbeat and dropped off at the nearest colony port to be jailed.

Actually, Daryl had retired from being a pirate, having settled down a few years back on land. He had never been much into the life on the sea, preferring to hunt in the dense tropical forests and live in solitude. Merle constantly disrupted that by dropping in and expecting Daryl to store his plundered loot, but all in all, he had been relatively content until a few weeks ago when Merle had convinced him to do one last run, saying he’d be set for life. 

Only their treasure hunt had turned into a fight for their lives. They’d lost most of their crew in the first wave, their ship overrun when one of the men returned from the whorehouse with a couple of fingers bitten off. Daryl could still hear him moaning in pain and fever, rattling on about an evil like no other. He’d risen from the dead overnight, before they had a chance to dump his body off the ship. He’d attacked four men before they could put him down, but by then it was too late.

The other four turned and eventually, Merle and Daryl grabbed the remaining men and got into a row boat. They’d already set sail from port, so they watched as the ship continued sailing into the horizon, only the dead at the helm. It took them an entire day to row back to their last port. Tired and weary, they were met with an even bigger nightmare. The townspeople had tried to contain it, quarantining the dead, but they had been unable to stop it from spreading. 

And now Daryl was on a ship with a man who frustrated him in ways he’d hoped he’d grown out of. Always told himself it was a phase, that he’d start liking girls. It’s one of the reasons he left Merle’s crew, he was tired of the jeers he got when they landed somewhere and the men spent their shares on booze and whores. He drank, but stayed away from the women.

The crew accused him of being into men, demanded he be left behind once, they weren’t going to have someone like him on their ship. Merle had stepped in, saved his sorry ass then privately demanded Daryl buy whores in the next three ports and whether he fucked them or not, he was putting gold down where the others could see him. 

Daryl thought it was a waste of his earnings, but agreed and spent three awful nights in the brothel. The girls were delighted to get paid and sleep while he sat up, fully clothed and miserable, waiting out his paid time.

Captain Rick Grimes was the worst sort of luck Daryl could have run into. He was handsome, a natural leader and Daryl had felt a crazy rush of something in his body when he’d gotten a good look at him. He’d never felt anything like that before, damn, and now he was stuck on a ship with him—and in the captain’s quarters no less.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing,” Rick said, entering the cabin after having left Daryl there alone for a long while. “There are no vacant bunks below and I’d rather keep you away from the general population anyway.”

Daryl stood up, having been sitting at Rick’s desk, replaying the insanity over and over in his mind. That and he’d been thinking about Rick.

“Afraid I’m gonna turn into one of ‘em and attack the crew?” Daryl asked, still unclear as to why he was in the captain’s quarters rather than sleeping below deck with the crew.

Rick made his way over to him and unbuckled his belt, tossing it and his gun onto the desk with a loud thud. “No, I don’t want them killing you in your sleep. They tend to feel threatened around pirates.”

Daryl’s chest tightened in worry. He’d been hoping he would pass a crewman on a merchant ship or even a tradesman. “Ya gonna arrest me?”

Rick met his eyes, a small smirk forming on his lips. “You haven’t given me a reason to, so let’s keep it that way.”

Daryl could barely process what Rick had said, all he could focus on was the blue of his eyes and the way he felt pulled into them. Fuck, this was bad. Daryl spent his whole life being aware of his surroundings, priding himself on staying present and that required focus, but that was out the window as soon as Rick was in the room. 

He willed himself out of the stupor and glanced around, mostly looking at the floor, wondering where he’d be sleeping. The Captain’s bunk wasn’t that big, only room for one. Daryl imagined he’d be roughing it on the floor. 

“You hungry?” Rick asked and Daryl answered a yes without looking up, he just couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll have Glenn bring you something.”

“Thanks,” Daryl mumbled, still averting his eyes. He could see Rick out of his peripheral, could see that the captain was still looking at him. 

“You have any idea what caused those people to…?” Rick’s question tapered off and Daryl knew he was still struggling with what he’d seen. Hell, Daryl was still struggling with it too and he’d been fighting them off for a week. 

“Naw, just know that if ya get bit by one of those things ya die and when ya die, ya come back as one of ‘em. The trick is to get ‘em in the head, seems to be the only thing that puts ‘em down for good.” Daryl managed to look at him as he explained, though the butterflies in his stomach raged wildly against that decision.

“Mmmmhmmm,” Rick hummed, turning away and propping his hands on his hips. He let out a loud sigh and Daryl took the opportunity to rake his eyes over his form. He didn’t know why he bothered though, odds were this man was straight as an arrow.

A knock on the door invaded the silence. It was Glenn there to drop off bedding. When Daryl saw the pillow and the luxurious down filled mattress, he wondered if he was seeing things. 

“I’ll bring a blanket in a bit,” Glenn said as he placed the things on the ground near Rick’s bed. 

“Glenn, can you also get our guest a plate for dinner?” Rick asked and Daryl blinked in shock at the word _guest_.

“Would you like wine or brandy?” Glenn asked and Daryl rubbed at his beard in confusion. 

“What?” He asked, sure they were making fun of him. He was a pirate and people like them despised people like him. They surely didn’t offer him wine or brandy or fancy mattresses and pillows.

Glenn glanced at Rick then back to Daryl. “With dinner, do you want wine or brandy? We only have red wine...but it’s pretty good.”

“Brandy,” Daryl said, eyeing the Asian man suspiciously. “Unless you got rum.”

“Bring him brandy,” Rick said quickly, before Glenn could answer. 

Glenn nodded and ducked out of the room while Rick leveled his gaze on Daryl again. “I have a bottle of rum. I don’t usually drink but after what I saw today, I could use one.” He moved to a built in cabinet along the wall and procured a full bottle and two short glasses.

Daryl wasn’t sure how to feel. He couldn’t stop imagining Rick in various expressions of pleasure and the butterflies in his body were overwhelming his senses so the idea of burning it all away with a strong drink gave him the first bit of relief he’d felt in his presence.

Rick poured one glass and handed it to Daryl before pouring his own. “I was sent here to deal with an uprising,” he said, taking a tentative sip before swallowing half the glass. “I’m supposed to deal with it, restore peace and order and then report back.”

Daryl tipped his own glass back, downing a third of it and reveling in its burning distraction. He didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say, so he just listened. And drank.

Rick topped off his own glass again. “If what you say is true, and I believe you after what I saw, then going back on that island is a suicide mission.”

Alarm bells went off in Daryl’s head, his hand jerking in response sending some of the rum to the floor. “My brother is on that island.”

Rick nodded as Daryl spoke. “I know, I know. I’ve already sent out three boats. My men will leave two at the docks so anyone who finds them can get out and we’ll take them on board, but I can’t risk anyone, not when I have no idea what we’re up against. I need time to figure this out.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to figure out,” Daryl huffed. Was this guy serious? He just told him everything about how it spreads and how to kill them. What else was there to figure out? “I’ll go get him myself,” Daryl said, tossing back the rest of his drink and slamming it down on the desk.

Rick grabbed his forearm, stopping him and the touch sent a shockwave through Daryl’s system. “I already sent my men, they’re halfway there by now. You need to eat and get your strength back, your brother is a smart man, he’ll find the boats and everything will be fine.”

“Fine?” Daryl growled. “What’d ya spend on the island? An hour? Maybe two? I spent a fuckin’ week on it and ya know how many men were just _fine_ a week ago? A hundred, maybe more. And now every last one of ‘em is a rottin’ piece of walkin’ flesh. I’m gonna get my brother if I have to swim.”

Rick’s hand didn’t budge as Daryl made to move away from him. “I need you,” Rick pleaded and Daryl’s heart thudded in his chest. “You’re the only one that knows about these things.”

“I ain’t the one with orders to save this place. I’m gonna get my brother and go the fuck home, I’m done with this shit,” Daryl yanked his arm free and got in Rick’s face.

Rick’s lips twitched and Daryl regretted having gotten so close to him. Their faces were inches apart and it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Daryl had hoped it would be. Instead, the vibe between them felt charged with tension—and not the fighting kind.

“You don’t understand, there might not be any home to go back to,” Rick said, his voice calm and steady. Daryl flinched and stepped back, mostly to get away from the magnetic pull he felt coming from the other man.

“What do ya mean?” Daryl felt tense and turned on and angry all at the same time. He was seconds away from walking out that door or pinning Rick to it and finding out what that rum tasted like in his mouth.

Rick stepped forward, slowly with a hand raised in surrender. “This isn’t the only island I was sent to deal with. There’s four others,” Rick said and Daryl felt a new level of horror wash over him. 

“It can’t be…” he murmured, his focus turning to his memories of seeing people ripped apart, women, men, horses even. 

“If this thing is happening in other places, it’s only a matter of time before it gets to the mainland. I need you if we’re going to stop this thing. Daryl,”—Rick laid a soft hand on his shoulder—“please.”

No one had ever said _please_ to him before and it was life changing. Daryl nodded, wondering if he’d regret his decision, but something told him he wouldn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick was drunk. He hadn’t been drunk in years, but it was exactly as he remembered—fun, freeing and liquid courage to do and say things he would normally restrain from expressing.

He’d only meant to have one drink to take the edge off, but Daryl kept drinking so Rick kept up.

They sat on Daryl’s bedding together, leaning against Rick’s bed with the half empty bottle of rum between them. Rick didn’t recall how they’d gotten to this point, relaxed and comfortable with each other, but he was happy that the uprising of dead people was a distant thought, a problem for another day.

“So, how’d a guy like you become a pirate?” Rick asked, tipping his glass against his lips to gather the last few drops of rum.

Daryl set his glass down and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the bed. “Guy like me?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, reaching for the bottle. “Attractive.” The word was out of Rick’s mouth before he could censor it, but it didn’t matter because his drunken mind swelled with pride at this mishap, eager to see how Daryl would respond. 

Daryl’s eyes opened and he lifted his head, meeting Rick’s eyes. “Ya think I’m attractive?”

Rick nodded, the motion annoying his intoxicated head, but he smiled then started to laugh. “That I do.”

“Hmmmm.” Daryl licked his lips. “Ain’t ever had a man like ya tell me I’m attractive before.”

“Man like me?” Rick poured more rum into his glass, but set it down without taking a drink. “What kind of a man is that?”

“Into women,” Daryl said, picking up Rick’s abandoned glass and downing the contents.

“That was mine,” Rick said, grabbing at the glass in Daryl’s hand, but he only managed to grab Daryl’s hand, not the glass. Without looking at it, they battled for the glass. Their hands fought, both hands getting involved until they tipped over, Rick leaning on Daryl’s side. 

Most of the rum spilled out of the glass. And they laughed. 

“Fuck, take it,” Daryl said, offering up the glass when Rick finally let go of his hands. 

But Rick’s mind processed Daryl’s statement differently and pretended it didn’t know he was talking about the stupid glass. Ignoring the peace offering, Rick strained to reach his lips to Daryl’s, slowly moving in.

It was sloppy at first until Rick remembered he was a much better kisser than all this and mustered some control over the movement of his mouth. Daryl willingly accepted his advance, returning the kiss and even rolling onto his back to put them in a better position. He heard the glass hit the ground and roll away and wondered if Daryl had tossed it or simply let go of it.

Rick was between his legs and grinding into him before he knew what he was doing. His mind was having a drunken celebration, reveling in the fact that this pirate was letting him do this. Something in the back of Rick’s mind whispered that drunk men did not let other men ravage them, so this wasn’t something Daryl was letting him do, this was something Daryl wanted. But for some reason, Rick couldn’t think of it like that, was afraid to think of it like that, even though it made no sense to think of it the way he was.

“Ya’ve got boney fuckin’ hips,” Daryl said when Rick’s mouth moved down his throat. 

Rick hummed in response, not really caring. He was turned on and hard and unable to think clearly, or maybe the alcohol made him more clear, yeah, that was probably it.

His hands worked at Daryl’s belt, fumbling with it until it relented and gave way. He could feel Daryl’s erection as he worked his hand inside and took hold of it. Daryl returned the favor, rubbing at Rick’s cock through his pants.

Rick had always wanted to suck cock, but never had the chance, so he decided there was no better time than the present and slid down Daryl’s body. He latched his mouth around the tip, rolling his tongue around the head. He was vaguely aware that Daryl was writing underneath him, pulling at his hair and grunting.

It was different than he imagined. All he could taste was the rum, yet it was the surprising silk of Daryl’s cock against his tongue that Rick enjoyed most. That and Daryl was bucking into his mouth which he took as a sign that he was doing something right. Rick’s own erection begged for stimulation, but he ignored it and continued learning how to fit all of the gorgeous pirate’s treasure into his mouth.

Rick tittered at his own joke. _Pirate’s treasure_ , how silly of him. Until now he’d viewed pirates as filthy, uncouth scoundrels who aggravated the good folk of the world and didn’t understand the allure some people had for them. But now he knew. Anyone who romanticized pirates must have met Daryl.

He was just finding a rhythm when Daryl sat up causing Rick to move back. Disoriented by the sudden move, he waited and licked his lips. 

Daryl pulled off his boots and tossed them to the side before kicking off his pants. Rick watched, pressing the heel of his hand against his hard on so it would know he hadn’t forgotten about it. Without removing his shirt, Daryl went for Rick’s boots next.

Rick tumbled onto his back as Daryl yanked on them, the angle all wrong. Rick started laughing and grunting, his head rolling back against the bedding. He was dizzy now and that didn’t bode well.

“Help me out,” Daryl gruffed as one of Rick’s boots finally disengaged from his foot. 

“I wanna suck your cock again,” Rick said as the other boot wiggled off his foot. 

Daryl’s hands were on the waist of Rick’s pants next, sliding them down. Rick chuckled as fingers brushed against his thighs, tickling him. And then his head swam again. Had the ship started moving? It felt like he was rocking back and forth, but he knew the anchor was down for the night.

He felt Daryl’s mouth on him. It was warm, but he couldn’t look at anything except the ceiling without feeling queasy. As Daryl worked at his cock, Rick’s hands wandered into his greasy hair. He wondered how long it’d been since the last time Daryl had bathed. He had tasted clean, but his hair was dirty. Rick thought back to his last bath earlier that morning, a quick rinsing off with a wet rag and a wash basin. Thank god he’d done a full sponge bath instead of his usual quick rubdown. 

It felt so good. If only he wasn’t feeling so out of it, so drunk. “I’m really drunk,” Rick blurted out, aware his words were slurred. The mouth on him stilled and then his dick felt cold. 

He heard Daryl mutter _fuck_ and then felt his warmth withdraw. Not just from his cock, but from his entire body. 

“Where’d ya go?” Rick questioned as his eyes closed. His pants were tugged up his hips and hands were on him again, this time tucking him back in place. Then he was warm again. He snuggled into the blanket that had suddenly appeared on his body and grinned.

~*~

Daryl sat at Rick’s feet, watching him sleep. He was buzzed, but definitely not drunk. It seemed he had a much higher tolerance than the captain. He had considered jacking off but something about Rick being so drunk turned him off. 

How had his whole life turned upside down in a week? The dead were trying to eat him, he’d lost his brother and now he was rolling around with the Captain of a Royal ship as if he was a horny teenager. He felt like he was losing his mind.

Rick snored softly from his position on his back and Daryl sighed. What had he gotten himself into? This man didn’t want him, he had been drunk and scared and Daryl happened to be the closest human being, that was all. It didn’t mean anything and he kind of hoped Rick wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

But then again, he kind of hoped he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually prefer to write a slow build between two people, so I will do that here emotionally, but with the crazy sexual tension thrown in to help things along :)


	4. Chapter 4

Rick woke up hot and sweaty. He was face down on the mattress, but it felt softer than his. Opening his eyes, he swallowed to stave off the intense dryness in his mouth and found his world a bit lower than he anticipated. His eyes were level with the floor.

He wondered where he was for a long, forgetful moment then the answer slammed into his mind like a cannonball and he felt his pulse quicken. Shit. Daryl. Rum. Drunken blowjobs. Dead people eating the living.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he slowly turned onto his side and looked around the room. He didn’t see Daryl.

Feeling relief, he sat up, the motion causing his hand to comfort his head. He wasn’t as hung-over as he could have been, but he definitely needed water, fresh air and a pot to piss in. Literally.

“Thought ya’d never wake up.” Daryl’s voice rang out from above him, giving Rick a start.

It seemed the pirate had slept in his bed and was still lounging in it, conveniently out of his sight. “Think I drank too much,” Rick said stupidly, not knowing what he really wanted to say or how to say it.

Daryl snorted. “Ya think?”

Rick couldn’t tell if he was upset by what had happened or just pissed off, so he decided to play dumb. Exaggerating a headache, he moaned as if he was feeling worse than he was and started to stand, making sure to wobble. “I must have blacked out…don’t remember much…” 

“Ya don’t remember much?” Daryl asked, though his tone was a bit brash.

Rick finally glanced at him, shook his head and pretended like nothing came to mind. While he had enjoyed it, he wasn’t wise to the world of men being with men and had no idea how to proceed so starting over seemed like a good choice. “Just, uh, drinking and we were laughing about something…but that’s about it…” He heard his knee crack as he straightened up. He was getting old, too old to be playing around with a pirate in the middle of a crisis.

“Ya sucked my cock,” Daryl stated and Rick nearly heaved all over himself in shock. The look on Daryl’s face was intimidating. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw set as if he were getting ready to punch him in the face.

“I, uh…what?” Rick nervously laughed, glancing away. “I, um…I’ll be back.” It was all he could think to do, flee. He turned and headed out of the cabin in search of Glenn, a flask of water, a place to relieve himself and a healthy dose of sanity, cause he had only been awake five minutes and was already losing his mind.

~*~

“Fucker,” Daryl mumbled to himself as the door shut behind Rick. What had he expected? That the captain would wake up and dive into his arms again? Shit like that didn’t happen for guys like Daryl. All he got was a sheepish and sober asshole who obviously regretted what they’d done because he couldn’t even admit he remembered. 

There was no way Rick Grimes didn’t remember. 

Daryl had been around drunk men his whole life. He knew Rick would remember everything until falling asleep. Which meant he was a fucker for pretending like it didn’t happen. 

And even though Daryl felt all sorts of crazy shit for this man, he wasn’t about to be swept under the damn rug.

He’d been lazing about for a long while before Rick had woken up so Daryl got up and put on his boots. He was going back to that island one way or another today to get his brother. Fuck this stupid hoity-toity captain and his epidemic problems, he was getting his brother and going home.

~*~

Rick was definitely not having a good morning. He had managed to piss and chug some water right before Glenn came at him with an issue that had developed overnight. His crew had gotten wind of what was happening on the island and gone into a panic. He addressed the lot of them on deck, assuring them they were all safe and that they’d be leaving port shortly. What he didn’t mention was that they’d be sailing straight toward another infected island.

After calming their nerves as best he could and getting the update that no one from shore had used their row boats to come aboard during the night, he ordered them to raise the anchor. He couldn’t wait for Daryl’s brother any longer, he had to prevent a mutiny and he had a gut feeling that Merle would be alright on his own. 

Daryl on the other hand…

Rick knew that as soon as the men started grinding the chains of the anchor that Daryl would realize what was happening so he wasn’t surprised when the pirate made his angry entrance on deck.

“What’er’ya doin’!?” Daryl snarled as he approached Rick. Some crew stopped mulling about, eyeing their unwanted guest with suspicion.

Rick took a moment to ignore him, checking on a knotted rope that holding some water barrels in place. 

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to ya!” Daryl’s voice grew louder and more threatening.

Rick finally turned toward him and put his palm up to calm him. “We’re heading to the next port on the itinerary and when we get there, I can send for another ship to come back and pick up your brother. Now if you want to discuss this—“

“Ain’t nothin’ to discuss,” Daryl said. “I’m gonna go get him myself. Ya gonna give me a boat or do I gotta swim?”

“Daryl—“ Rick couldn’t let him leave, didn’t want him to leave. “He’s your brother, I understand. I got two kids, a boy and a little girl. I’d do anything to keep them safe. Anything.” He hoped Daryl would remember what he said last night about other islands having outbreaks. His men didn’t know and he needed to keep it quiet, otherwise they wouldn’t willingly sail into another distressed port.

His words must have sunk in because Daryl huffed and backed down, but the anger was still there, brewing under the surface. “Merle’s a tough sonnovabitch.” 

Rick didn’t know why Daryl had suddenly had a change of heart, it seemed bizarre, but he knew better than to question it. He reached out and put his hand on Daryl’s bicep, immediately regretting it when he felt a surge of energy between them. This wasn’t the time or place to be mooning over the pirate. “I promise you, I’ll send a ship back.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes and seemed to relax into Rick’s hand, although the captain doubted he was perceiving that correctly. “Ya better or I’ll make ya walk the plank.”

“We don’t have a plank.” Rick wanted to laugh, but he held a straight face. 

Daryl’s eyes narrowed even more and he yanked his arm away from Rick’s grasp. “Fuckin’ pansies.” 

The pirate looked around at the crew and shifted his weight a few times. It was obvious he was uncomfortable so Rick decided it was time to get him away from the curious stares. “Glenn, take over up here,” Rick said and headed for the stairs. “Daryl, follow me.”

~*~

Daryl was ready to jump ship and just let himself drown. He had never been so pussy whipped before. Well, Rick didn’t have a pussy, so what would that be, dick whipped? The fact that he was even thinking about such things was the exact reason he was ready to stuff himself into a cannon and be shot into oblivion. 

This wasn’t him. He was tough, level headed, able to focus on what needed to be done, but now, he was backing down to this man all because he had a hard on over him. _It’s not just a hard on,_ the voice in his head nagged. 

And now he was back in the Captain’s quarters with him, awkwardly standing by the closed door wondering what the fuck they were going to talk about. He knew that asshole remembered what they had done, and he had told him what they had done, but this avoidance crap was driving him crazy. 

On one hand, he wanted to punch him in the face and on the other hand he wanted that face down by his crotch again, sucking him into—

“Daryl, did you hear me?” Rick said and Daryl’s head snapped up. Shit, he’d gotten lost in his thoughts. He hated this, hated being at the mercy of all the feelings and thoughts that had arrived when this guy had shown up in his life.

He didn’t know what Rick had said, so he just snapped out what was on his mind. “Listen up, between the dead walking and eatin’ people, losin’ my brother and not being able to go get him and now a pansy crown captain suckin’ my cock and acting like it didn’t happen, I got a lot on my mind so no, I didn’t hear what the fuck ya said.”

Rick looked shocked, which made Daryl even more annoyed. “That is…” Rick started then cleared his throat, “that is a lot to consider I suppose.”

“Oh, ya suppose?” Daryl pushed away from the door and moved toward the captain. He stopped in front of him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?”

Rick blinked. “I don’t have a problem.”

Daryl jabbed his chest again. “Yeah, ya do.”

“I was drunk.”

“Ya put your fuckin’ mouth on my cock,” Daryl said, frustrated that he was trying to get approval from this guy. “Do ya always do that when you’re drunk?”

Rick finally grabbed his finger and held it away from his chest. His cheeks were flushed too and Daryl wondered if it was out of embarrassment or arousal. He secretly hoped it was both. When Rick didn’t reply, Daryl stepped back and yanked his finger free from the captain’s grasp.

“I’ve never done that,” Rick whispered and that’s when Daryl understood the problem. Rick wasn’t avoiding _him_ , he was avoiding what he’d _done_ , especially if that was his first time doing something sexual with a guy. 

It wasn’t like Daryl had a lot of experience himself, but he’d fooled around with a friend of his when they were teenagers. They’d exchanged handjobs, blowjobs, but never had sex, that was something Daryl hadn’t done with anyone yet, something that still made him feel like less of a man at his age.

He wanted it with Rick. Needed it. But yet he wanted more, but what that more was, he didn’t know.

“Figures,” Daryl scoffed, turning away to hide his frustration. 

Rick was quiet for a moment, but then spoke softly. “My wife died giving birth to my little girl,” he said and Daryl turned back to meet his eyes, recognizing the seriousness in his voice. “She’d been sleeping with my best friend while I was away, he had misinformed her that I was dead. Even though it’s unlikely that I’m the father, she’s mine.” 

Daryl squinted his eyes as he listened, unsure of the direction Rick was taking. 

“I’d always thought about it…being with a man…but it wasn’t my lot in life, I took a different path, a path I will protect no matter what. But…” Rick hesitated, casting his eyes down.

Daryl shifted his weight in anticipation. “But what?”

“But then last night happened.” Rick’s eyes rose to Daryl’s.

“And?” Daryl bit out, harsher than intended.

Rick’s eyes dropped again. “And what? What do you want me to say? That I liked it?”

Daryl’s heart thudded in his chest with hope. He couldn’t speak the words that came to mind. _That you wanted it to happen, that you want it to happen again, right now, with me, because of me._

The silent pause between them finally broke when Rick whispered. “I liked it.”

~*~

Rick stood motionless, his eyes boring into the wooden floorboards. His confession hung around his neck like a noose, waiting to strangle him. Being around this man, this pirate, was intoxicating. It wasn’t just that alcohol that had allowed him to drop his inhibitions last night, it had been the overwhelming desire that pulsed in his veins, urging him to claim everything he could about Daryl.

And now he’d confessed that he remembered their tryst and enjoyed it, alluding to his interest in experiencing it again. He was at the mercy of whatever the pirate would dish out now, ridicule, insult, manipulation, even rejection.

“Ya wanna try it sober?” The words were clear, but the voice was hesitant, nervous.

Rick glanced up and saw the same fear of rejection on Daryl’s face that probably graced his own. “Now?” he croaked out in total disbelief that this was even an option for them.

Daryl shrugged. “Whenever.”

But before he could respond, Daryl stepped into his space again. Neither of them moved to touch the other, neither of them spoke. Their eyes made sure not to meet, Daryl’s set on Rick’s shoulder and Rick’s set on the shaggy tips of Daryl’s hair. They were so close they could easily kiss, yet they stood still, breathing and waiting.

And then ever so slowly, Rick turned his eyes to Daryl’s and when they met, their lips followed.


End file.
